


To Tame A Beast

by thelittlewolf



Category: Beauty and the Beast (1991), Beauty and the Beast (2017), Beauty and the Beast - All Media Types
Genre: AU beauty and the beast, Beauty and the Beast, Disney, F/M, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:26:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21576778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelittlewolf/pseuds/thelittlewolf
Summary: A collection of stories from the fairytale of the Beauty who tamed the Beast.
Relationships: Beast/Belle (Disney), Belle's Mother/Maurice (Disney)
Kudos: 3





	1. An Enchanted Rose

A long time ago, tucked away in a small corner of France, there lived an inventor and his wife. The inventor, called Maurice Mercier, had been a clocksmith by trade, apprenticing for an elderly man whose main clientele was a noble family who, having no love of the country, resided in the bustling city and only rarely ventured out to attend to their lands and tenants. Lord and Lady Châteaudun, had a daughter named Diane, lovely, kind, well-learned, and free spirited, but their son was boisterous and cruel, devoting his time and energy to gambling and drinking away his inheritance. With time, the young apprentice and the noble daughter became closer and closer. She would read him great tales from the vast collection of books she owned while he sat at his work bench assembling and sketching out new inventions to please her. With time, they fell in love, but knew that her parents would never allow the match. After the Lord and Lady’s death, the son gambled away all of the family money and lands within months, leaving the daughter with nothing but her books and the small amount of money that she had stashed away and a ruined noble name. With no prospects left and no person to object, the apprentice and the noble daughter married, leaving to live in a small cottage on the outskirts of town.

As time passed, they lived on the demand for the inventor’s creations and his few clients that trusted his handiwork when their clocks needed repairs. It was far from a luxurious life, but they were happy, content, and comfortable. And, as the course of most families run, fairly soon they welcomed a daughter, beautiful and fair-tempered with hair as dark as her mothers and hazel-brown eyes to match. Lovely from birth, they named her Belle.

Belle was a happy child, joyous and as kind as her mother. However, the child developed as keen of a love of having her mother read to her, just as Maurice had years prior. From a young age, Belle showed a keen wit that soon developed into a keen desire to read, and of course, Diane obliged. For her fourth birthday, Belle was gifted with a simple book: “Louis and the Ball.” It was far from any literary masterpiece, but it served its purpose well enough to teach the little girl to read with her mother.

However, as with all stories, happy times never last.

There arose an opportunity for Maurice to go and study for two days under a master clocksmith in a town a day’s ride from Paris, and of course, Diane kissed his cheeks with a grin and shooed him on his way when he expressed worry at leaving his two beloved girls behind for the time. His wife assured them that they would be fine and that they would be here happily awaiting his return.

She only managed to keep one of her promises.

Belle fell ill within hours of her father’s departure, but there was no way to recall Maurice back to the humble cottage. The young child thrashed terribly in delirium for a day with a mighty fever that left her brow always with a thick sheet of sweat. Diane fretted and worried, spending the last of the money that she had stashed away from her inheritance to pay for a doctor to attend to her suffering daughter, but to no avail. The doctor in dismay told Diane that there was nothing that could be done to help Belle and that the child’s heart would fail from maintaining such a frantic pace within two days if the fever did not break.

Distraught, Belle’s mother sat by her bedside, shushing her whimpering child and trying to soothe her as best she could. Minutes seemed to drag to hours and hours seemed to last an eternity until at an hour too late to be considered night and too early to be considered morning, there came a knock at the door. Wiping the relentless tears from her red, puffy eyes, Diane answered the door to find an old, ragged beggar woman, offering a single rose as payment for just a place to rest her head for the night.

Diane, of course, allowed the woman in, thanking her for such a beautiful gift before leading her to the kitchen. As she turned to attempt to reheat the remainder of the dinner that had gone untouched to offer to the poor, old woman, a bright light took the room, causing the mother to fall to her knees as the air swirled about her.

“Even in your most dire hour, you hesitated for not one moment to open your door and heart to those in need, and for such a kindness, I shall grant one in return.”

When Diane turned to face the voice, the hag’s appearance had melted away to reveal a beautiful enchantress. Immediately, she begged for her daughter’s life, asking that if it were in the Enchantress’s power, to save Belle. The Enchantress agreed, but with a warning that death must always have a life to claim. Were the mother to wish to have her daughter’s life saved, then hers must be the one lost in its place. Without even a moment’s thought, Diane accepted the terms, asking only that in her absence, that the Enchantress would watch over the child, protect her and guide her through her life. With a sad smile and a simple nod, the mystical woman agreed. Then, with another flash of light, she was gone.

When Maurice returned home the next day, to his horror, his wife lay terribly ill in their bed, with a tearful Belle attempting to nurse her mother back to health. Diane died therein a few days later, having never made a mention of the bargain that she had struck to save their daughter’s life.

In despair and panic, Maurice packed up his daughter and all of their things, and left Paris, moving to the small town to study further under the master clocksmith for another year. But he grew endlessly restless, never feeling the ability to stay settled in one place for too long. As such, he and Belle traveled and lived in several of the provinces in the heart of France as he tried to market his clocks, watches, and inventions. However, despite all of this, Belle stayed that same sweet, bright, and with that same, keen love of books that her mother had had.

But despite the travels of her childhood, she craved adventure, the kind that the daring characters in her books lived, but for her father’s sake, she never complained about the small farming villages that they lived in. He loved her, he provided for her, and he only wanted what was best for her, even if it was in a little town and a quiet village with every day like the one before. A little town, full of little people waking up to say…

Bonjour!


	2. Home

“If she doesn’t eat with me, then she doesn’t eat at all!”

The monstrous roar had reverberated throughout the darkened suite, rattling the door and fogged window frame as the oncoming storm splattered little droplets of rain against the fogging glass. A thick silence had fallen as though the very air in the room had been stunned and frozen at the outburst. The slender brunette who had only moments before let her obstinate pride protect her self-interests now stood trembling as she gaped in horror at the door. Thick tears stung at her eyes as with a stifled cry, she turned on heal and ran from the door throwing herself onto the heavy blankets that covered the expanse of the large bed… And sobbed.

She sobbed over her loss of freedom. She sobbed over how the town had treated her that very morning. She sobbed over how Gaston had frightened and threatened her in her father’s absence. She sobbed over the loss of her father. She sobbed out of exhaustion. And she sobbed over how she had been bellowed at with rage unlike anything she had ever known. After all, even the strongest of women could only withstand so much in a single day before they broke like a shelf laden with too many books.

~*~

However, the Master of the Castle hadn’t been able to tromp very far from the doors that divided him from his new prisoner before he had been blocked by a rolling tea cart with a very angry tea pot on it, giving a leveling glare to the Beast.

“Master! You know better than to behave like that!” Mrs. Potts scolded with every bit of the disappointed, mothering sort that she was, and the Beast was half convinced that if she had been her plump, human self in this moment, her hands would have had a very firm place on her hips as well.

“I am the Master of this Castle! I am a /Prince!/ She has no right to refuse any order I give here!” The Beast snarled back, his jowls barred as his hackles stood on end. Had any other of the animated servants dared try to speak to him now, he simply would have forcefully pushed his way around him, but with Mrs. Potts, he had lowered himself to a more defensive stance on all fours.

“And your mother would be ashamed to see you treat a lady like that, ‘specially after the day she’s just ‘ad.” The teapot didn’t flinch, being far used to the Master’s explosive rages than she truly ought to be, but in moments like this, it also meant that she was the only servant in all the castle that he would listen to in a time like this.

However, the Beast hissed, recoiling at what she had dared to say. A growl burbled deep in his throat, his claws digging into the frayed carpet as he barely held on to the remainder of his control – else the shining suits of armor that decorated the halls were about to be laid to waste. “How dare--“ but his retort was cut off as her words sank slowly into his thoughts. She was right, wasn’t she? Slowly, his tensed form relaxed, the predatorial pose slumping into a look of chastised defeat.

“Hmm. And I bet if you go up to that room o’ yours and look at that poor girl through your mirror, you’ll find her cryin’ her eyes out because of you.” Mrs. Potts paused for emphasis before adding: “/Again/.”

He flinched back once more, as though that single word had physically stung him, but he knew that she had to be right, and he was almost loathe to go and look. Chilling guilt had already begun to seep in and replace the fiery rage that had once consumed him, leaving him with regret and embarrassment for sinking to animalistic tendencies again. Hadn’t Lumiere said that such behavior and treatment was no way to win her affections, if that was at all possible? “… If she’s hungry, give her whatever she asks for.”

~*~

It had been hours later that Belle’s tears had subsided enough to leave her with dry, empty hiccups as she lay on the bed, staring at the night rain that continued to patter lightly against the large window in her room. She felt oddly numb to her surroundings, as if that great session drowning in her emotions had washed her clean and fully drained her of all other feelings. Or perhaps, she was merely exhausted from it all. Blankly, she stared at the window, not in fascination or hypnosis, but as if it was merely a thing for her eyes to focus on while her mind sat working silently.

“Yes, I made the choice. For Papa, I will stay.”


End file.
